Date: Tue, 15 May 2012 00:30:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: Christian Debus
Subject: "Glaucus of Korinthos" Chapter 4
GLAUCUS OF KORINTHOS
OR
THE SPOILS OR WAR
Chapter 4
Glaucus Submits
This is a story of erotic fiction meant for adult readers over the age of
eighteen years.
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Written by Jean-Christophe (Chris): May, 2012
An archive of all my stories can be found at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Jean- Christophe_Stories
'The ideas and characters in this story are the writer's and shouldn't be
used without his permission. Please respect the integrity of the story and
don't do any rewrites, make alterations or add pictures.'
Chapter 4: Glaucus Submits
There is much feverish activity on the wharves this morning as the newly
enslaved youths and maidens of Korinthos are loaded onto waiting ships for
transportation to the slave- markets of the Mediterranean.
All around me are the sad sounds of their slavery. The melancholy clanking
of chains, the hiss and crack of whips whistling through the air and the
loud thwack as raw leather meets yielding naked flesh join with the cries
of outraged pain and the pitiful pleas of the newly enslaved to be set
free.
But freedom for these new slaves is now merely a memory of what vengeful
Rome has taken from them and which she'll never return. The ships wait to
carry them into bitter servitude in the far flung corners of Rome's
dominions.
I have come to the wharves to supervise the loading of my 'spoils of war';
the five hundred brawny, young Greek males who are destined to labour as
slaves on my farms and in my marble quarry at Tauromenium.
One of the two galleys I have engaged to transport them to Sicilia is fully
laden and she rests low in the water from the weight of her human cargo. In
contrast, the second - as yet unloaded galley with her empty holds - rides
high above the waterline.
My slaves, naked and heavily chained, stand bewildered in a tight huddle of
human misery. The shock of their new condition renders them
uncomprehending and the whips of my soldiers employed on loading them onto
the waiting galley ensure they remain compliant.
I have time to visually examine them as we wait for them to be loaded and I
am well pleased with my war booty. Without exception, all are prime stock
who enjoy robust good health and come with the promise of many years of
bountiful labour.
Of course, there will be a temporary setback as they are transported to
Sicilia. Their incarceration within the galleys' fetid, vermin infested
cargo holds together with minimal food and water will see some falling off
of their current well-fed condition. But once they are landed at
Tauromenium, hard work and a healthy diet will soon return them to their
present rude good health.
This morning, I am accompanied by my new slave, Glaucus who is acting as my
scribe. He is busy counting the heads of the slaves, ascertaining their
names and ages and any skills they might possess and recording these in my
slave register.
I watch as a subdued Glaucus goes about his new duties with sulky
efficiency. Unlike the naked slaves waiting to be loaded onto the galley,
Glaucus is clothed. He wears a short, sleeveless tunic woven from coarse,
unbleached Egyptian linen. As a slave he is forbidden to wear the sandals
or shoes of the free man and within my tent he goes barefoot. However, to
protect his feet when working outdoors, I allow him to wear the
wooden-soled sculponea of the slave and the peasant. I wonder how he feels
about being dressed as a slave. Until just a day or so ago he'd worn the
colourful, fine silken and woollen robes of the Greek aristocrat; now he
wears the cheap, colourless garb of the slave. And if this doesn't remind
him of his new status then the metal collar fastened around his neck would
surely do so.
Fortunately, amid the confusion of Korinthos's destruction, I had located
three, new unused slave collars. I'd decided to allow my three new slaves
to keep the names of Glaucus, Diagoras and Perimedes and I'd called on one
of my legion's blacksmiths to inscribe these names and the fact that they
are the property of Flaccus Marcus Bruscius on the collars. I have decided
against branding them at this stage.
Slave- branding isn't universally practised In Rome and many slaves are
unbranded unless they offend. Then, they are branded with the letters of
their crime. Very few slaves abscond and I believe it is the fear of
punishment that ensures they don't stray from their owners'
households. Inevitably, a runaway slave is caught and there are lower class
free men who eke out a living in apprehending a fugitive slave and
returning him to his rightful owner for the reward money.
Sometimes an owner will have the slave put to death - usually by
crucifixion - but more usually he will have the runaway branded on the
forehead with the large letters 'FUG' for fugitivus. This marks the slave
as an ingrate and as untrustworthy and the punishment for his crime is
forever there for all to see.
I believe it is the fear of the fugitive brand that makes a slave think
twice before absconding from his Master's lawful ownership of him.
However, I have decided all my work slaves are to be branded. And why have
I come to that decision?
Primarily it is to protect my very considerable investment in my
slaves. Because of the war with the Carthaginians, Sicilia is still a
comparatively lawless society and there are those who wouldn't think twice
about stealing a slave for profit. And it is hard to argue ownership of an
unmarked slave offered for sale whereas there is no confusion if a slave
wears his owner's brand prominently on his body.
It is my intention to design a brand that clearly establishes my particular
ownership of my slaves and my first task on moving to Tauromenium will be
to have them marked with it.
Once more, my gaze wanders back to Glaucus. Deliberately, I have forbidden
him to wear a subligaculum -or loin cloth - under his tunic which remains
his only article of clothing. This morning, as I look at Glaucus, I
visualise the ten, angry stripes of my crop and whip on his buttocks and
back that I'd administered to him last night.
The slave's tunic is what I would call figure-hugging and if it's possible
it accentuates his boyish physique to perfection. Glaucus is eighteen and
his body lacks the full development of an adult male slave. But the boyish
curves of his burgeoning maturity do show through his tunic and hide very
little from my eyes while suggesting much to my erotic fantasies.
I have decided that Glaucus, among his other duties, is to provide me with
my sexual relief. I am ambivalent about my sexual orientation; variously I
have had sex with both men and women during my time as a soldier of Rome.
I suppose I would have to admit that more often than not my sexual exploits
have been with males rather than females. While the Greeks are openly
tolerant of 'man love', Roman society is less so. However, that's not to
say it doesn't exist. It does and it is as widely practised among Roman men
as it is among Greeks. The difference is that the Greeks openly practise
homosexuality between older men and youths whereas in Rome it is carefully
hidden.
Love between freemen of equal status strikes at one of the major
foundations of Roman society - the family. The importance of family lies at
the very heart of our society. It defines who we are, our place in Rome's
affairs and the rules of inheritance. Rome's laws support the concept of
family and at its cornerstone is the concept of 'paterfamilias' whereby the
affairs of a family are vested in the male head of the household.
Because of these social pressures many Romans tend to hide their
homosexuality. For a wealthy Roman this is easily done. He buys young,
male slaves and installs them in his household where they become the focus
of their Master's preference for 'Greek love'. And of course sex with a
slave, who is after all a non-person, isn't regarded in the same way as sex
between free men.
In my case, my predilection for male sex is more prosaic. As a soldier, I
spend most of my time in the company of other men. No one would question
the masculinity of the Roman soldier. Without exception, they are
boisterous and hard living. They are fierce fighters who are unswervingly
loyal to their units and to one another. Theirs is a true 'brotherhood' of
like minds.
And it is this brotherhood that bonds the Roman soldier to his
fellows. It's true to say the Roman soldier would sacrifice his life in the
interests of Rome and his fellow soldiers. And I sometimes wonder which has
first claim on their loyalty - Rome or their comrades.
Rome's wars ensure her legions are engaged in long campaigns in the dank,
dark green forests of barbarian Europa and the arid regions of nearby
Asia. These wars are brutal, no quarter given affairs and so Rome's
soldiers are tough. Above all they are fatalistic in that they know the
gods of war could beckon to them from across the River Styx at any time;
calling them home to the Elysian Fields, the afterlife abode of the hero
and the courageous.
And so they fight hard, drink much and live life as though there is no
tomorrow. And they take their sexual pleasures whenever and with whomever
they can. Sometimes, there are newly captured young men and women who
provide temporary relief as their wait for the arrival of the slave-traders
but mostly they find their pleasure with one another or with the camp
followers of loose women, whores and catamites.
Personally, I have never sought any sexual relief among these lower class
groups and I'd always remained aloof from the drunken revelry of my
men. The shrieking laughter of the pox-ridden whores and the girlish
giggling of the slack-assed sodomites never appealed to me. In all my
campaigns, I'd been accompanied by a slave -for practical reasons always a
male - who attended to my bodily needs both within my tent and within my
bed.
And this is the role I have now assigned to my new slave, Glaucus.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Last night, I'd used him for the very first time and I have to say I was
delighted with him. I'd been attracted to him at my first sighting of his
upturned ass as he was about to be raped by my soldiers. As I looked down
upon his trembling, naked form, I decided to acquire him as my slave. And
as an added bonus there were his two slaves, Perimedes and Diagoras. All
three now belong to me.
Just before last evening's dusk, I'd returned to my tent where Glaucus was
waiting on my arrival. I'd assigned Perimedes and Diagoras to work with my
soldiers in preparing my new slaves for shipment to Sicilia and so Glaucus
had been left with the duties of tidying my tent, preparing my evening meal
and the cleaning and polishing of my blood-splattered body armour.
I'd spelt out in great detail to Glaucus before leaving what I expected of
him and I was keen to see if he'd paid attention. I suspected he would
prove a wilful pupil and I resolved to be strict in my training of him.
I'd spent time instructing him in the protocols that exist between a Roman
master and his slave and which I now expected him to adopt in serving
me. I'd told him he was to always to refer to me as 'Master' and that he
was to begin and close each address to me with that honorific.
I'd also told him that whenever I returned, he is to fall to his knees and
crawl forward to kiss my feet in both homage and welcome.
I saw the resentment in his eyes and the angry red flush in his face as he
listened to my instructions. I knew then that Glaucus would prove a
difficult slave to break into my ways.
I sensed his stubborn, aristocratic pride - and while I understood it and
even admired him for it - he has to learn that he is no longer an
aristocratic Greek. He is now a conquered vassal of Rome and a slave. And
as bitter as this is, it's the lesson he must now learn; and learn it
quickly.
Previously, I'd asked the Legion's cobbler to make me a leather crop and a
short leather quirt which I could use as training aids with Glaucus. On my
way back to my tent, I'd called in to the shoemaker's workshop and found
that he'd taken time out from the making and repairing of the soldiers'
footwear to make me my new instruments of discipline.
The cobbler, no doubt wishing to curry favour with me, had excelled
himself. Both the crop and the quirt are exquisite in their workmanship and
they far surpass what I'd expected. He told me both are made from the
finest dressed steer hide and the handles of both are covered in finely
plaited leather strips. The end of each ends in an ornate knob into which
are etched my initials -''FMB'. I was delighted with them and despite his
protests, I insisted on rewarding him with five sesterces for his efforts.
My other two slaves, Perimedes and Diagoras - I believe they are Keltoi
brothers - don't present me with the same problems as Glaucus. As long
serving slaves to him, they are well versed in their roles and I find them
suitably subservient and willing to serve me - their new Master. And so, I
don't anticipate that'll I'll need to use either the crop or the quirt on
them.
Thus equipped, I returned to my tent to see if Glaucus had carried out his
duties to my satisfaction.
As I parted the flap at the tent's entrance, Glaucus did fall to his knees
and press his nose to the ground but I sensed his proud defiance. I took
two or three steps into the tent and paused waiting for Glaucus to crawl
forward to welcome me. For several moments neither of us moved and I was
annoyed by my new slave's refusal to greet me. I decided then that Glaucus
had just earned three cuts of my new crop.
Stubbornly, Glaucus didn't move and my annoyance turned to cold anger and
in my mind, I increased the number of his strokes to ten. Angrily, I
ordered my defiant slave to his feet and commanded him to strip out of his
tunic.
Resentfully, he did as I'd commanded and with seconds, Glaucus stood before
me in his new slave's nakedness. And the sight of his nude body took my
breath away. Truly, Glaucus is a creature of true masculine beauty.
Obviously, as an aristocratic young Greek, he'd spent much time in the
gymnasium. His youthful body was at the peak of physical condition and yet
his clearly defined musculature lacked the over-development of the more
mature Greek athlete whilst the sensuous curves of his young body added to
his allure.
My gaze roamed down over his manly chest and well defined abdomen before
coming to rest at his genitals. And it was very obvious that the Olympian
gods had been very generous to Glaucus; his sexual endowment was a worthy
challenger to the god, Priapus.
His long, thick cock rested at a cheeky angle on top of his scrotum and his
two larger than average balls hung low and unevenly between his muscular
thighs. As is the custom with all free Greek males, Glaucus is
uncircumcised although in his semi-erect state, his prepuce did little to
conceal his glans.
I've always regarded the Greek concept of male nudity with slight
bemusement and their reluctance to expose the male glans in public puzzles
me. The Greek male thinks nothing of proudly strutting around in total
nakedness as long as his foreskin obscures his cockhead from public
sight. For a Greek to exhibit his glans to others is considered indecent
and a source of personal shame.
Most Greek males are inordinately proud of their foreskins and there is a
tendency on their part to immortalise them in their works of art. Even
within my parents' household there are numerous pieces of Greek pottery and
statuary which give prominence to the male prepuce.
Of course, I accept that Greek males are more relaxed about nudity than we
Romans. But their belief that a foreskin covering the head of one's cock
somehow negates total nudity strikes me as laughable.
But as I look at Glaucus, I do have a new appreciation of Greek
nudity. Glaucus, in his nakedness, is magnificent and I resolve to keep him
this way within the confines of my tent. To cover so glorious a body seems
almost sacrilegious.
There will be occasions when I entertain my fellow officers and Glaucus
will serve us. On those occasions I will dress him in a breechclout so that
my guests can gain a better appreciation of him. And when he accompanies me
on my official duties, I will allow him to wear a slave's tunic and the
wooden soled shoes of the slave. However, at all other times, when we are
alone, he'll serve me barefoot and naked.
Slowly, Glaucus's cock inched itself from dormancy into throbbing activity
and eventually I was rewarded with the spectacle of my new slave's
impressive erection. I watched as his foreskin eased itself back along the
heavily veined shaft of his cock until his glans seemed to be winking at
me. My own cock responded and was barely concealed with the folds of my
soldier's tunic.
As I appreciated Glaucus's demonstration of his capabilities, I thought
back to my father's household where it is standard practice for all his
male slaves to be infibulated. My father has a very conservative outlook
and to save any embarrassing encounters between my mother, my two sisters
and a masturbating slave, he'd ensured all his male slaves wore the fibula.
I will have Glaucus infibulated if only to impress upon him his new slave
status. But apart from that I quite like the idea of him wearing a
fibula. It is my intention to buy an ornamental collar to replace the ugly
iron collar that he now wears. I'd only ever seen that as temporary until I
had time to pick out a collar more in keeping with his role as my slave.
Upon my return to Italia, I will commission a goldsmith to make me a
matching neck torc and genital cinch for Glaucus. And I will add a fibula
to that order.
But why stop with Glaucus. As soon as time permits, I will take Glaucus and
the two Keltoi brothers to the Legion's surgeon and have them
infibulated. It's a very quick procedure and I'm told it's virtually
painless and causes minimal distress to the slave. Then when they are
healed, I'll have a blacksmith fit them with temporary rings.
As he stood before me, Glaucus was obviously nervous. I suspect he knew
that he had overtaxed my patience and yet he remained unrepentant. He
stared at me, quite brazenly, and I stepped forward and slapped his right
cheek leaving the angry, red imprint of my hand on the olive smooth
complexion of his face. I demanded that he lower his eyes to the tent's
floor.
As he did so, I caught a glimpse of his tears and momentarily, I felt
remorse for my treatment of him. But I rebuked myself. Glaucus was my slave
and he'd challenged my authority. This was a challenge I couldn't allow to
go unchecked and Glaucus must be punished. I needed to assert my Master's
rights over him and I knew that I must now treat him as I intended for the
relationship between us to continue. I was his Master and he was my
slave. He needed to learn that lesson.
I rebuked him for his disrespect to his Master in not properly greeting me
and for his show of stubborn pride. I told him that I would now punish him
for the first time and I showed him the instruments of that punishment - my
new crop and quirt.
The sight of both caused the colour to drain from his face and his eyes to
widen in fright. I imagined the prospect of punishment is something he'd
never considered would ever happen to him. No doubt, as a free man, he had
punished his own slaves and he'd probably have been untroubled by their
suffering. But, as my slave, he was about to share their experiences.
I bound his wrists together and told him to stand facing hard up against
the centre-pole of my tent. Then, I tied his ankles to the base of the pole
and secured his wrists high above his head so that his body was stretched
taut. As I did so, I could feel the trembling of his body. I wondered was
it fear or some other emotion that affected him.
I stood for few moments and admired the rear of my slave. With his arms
stretched above his head every muscle in his back stood out in sharp relief
and invited my closer inspection. I stood close behind Glaucus - so close
in fact that our bodies almost touched. Reaching up, my hands felt the hard
knotted mounds of his biceps and swept down over his shoulders and back to
the curvaceous mounds of his ass. By Jupiter, how good it felt.
I noted the sharp intake of his breath and the involuntary clenching of his
buttocks as my hands explored their flawless smoothness. My lust got the
better of me and I slipped an exploratory finger into the dividing cleft
and sought out his anus. I felt the stiffening of his body as my finger
gently teased his sensitive sphincter and I heard his audible gasp of
outraged surprise as I thrust through his resistance and entered into him.
At first he fought me! He clenched his buttocks and I could feel the
working of his anal muscles as he sought to expel my invading finger. Not
to be thwarted, I persisted and gradually his resistance
crumbled. Hungrily, my finger explored the silky smooth warmth of his inner
being and searched for the pleasure nub of his prostate. Once found,
Glaucus was defenceless!
Slowly, I felt the lessening of the knotted-muscle tension in his body and
as he relaxed, I could feel him pushing back against me seeking to draw my
finger even deeper inside of him.
His body trembled with a new found expectancy of pleasure and I tried not
to disappoint him. Gently, I began to slide my finger in and out of him;
slowly at first but as my lust mounted and as my cock throbbed, I quickened
the pace of my thrusting.
As I listened to his low, pleasurable moaning, I appreciated the warmth and
tightness of my new slave's ass. It would have been so easy to use my cock
to claim him there and then as my own. Glaucus had bewitched me and I was
eager to fuck him. But first things first and that would have to wait until
after his punishment.
Reluctantly, I withdrew from Glaucus and picked up my new crop. I swished
it through the air several times to get a feel for its balance and its
sibilant sound caused Glaucus to turn his head to the side to watch as I
did so.
I'd determined that Glaucus's offences were serious and warranted firm
punishment. And I was keen to impress upon him that I wouldn't tolerate
such behaviour from a slave. I'd decided that Glaucus would taste both the
crop and the quirt. He was to receive five strokes of the crop on his
buttocks and five strokes of the quirt on his shoulders.
I very rarely use a whip on a slave. The whip's ferocity can irrevocably
mark a slave's body and spoil his appearance. And to permanently mark
Glaucus's physical perfection with a heavy whip was unthinkable. That is
why I'd opted for the light weight, two-tailed quirt - which is similar to
the one I use with my horses - rather than the heavy duty whip.
I'd always found the quirt is capable of delivering a salutary lesson to a
miscreant slave without permanently marking his body. Certainly the pain
they feel often causes them to cry out in distress. It will be interesting
to see if Glaucus does so.
Glaucus watched wide-eyed as I removed my outer garments until I was
clothed in just my undergarment. I'd always found being stripped to the
waist gave me more freedom in wielding the cane or the whip.
Outwardly, Glaucus struggled to stay composed. But the pallor of his face
and the trembling of his limbs betrayed his inner fear. I admired him for
his courage and saw this as reflection of his Stoic upbringing. Glaucus was
in every sense a young, Greek nobleman.
Unfortunately, because of his nobility, his transition into slavery will be
that much harder.
I felt it only fair to Glaucus to tell him about the severity of his
punishment and the reasons for it. He listened in sullen silence as I told
him that his failure to welcome me on my return was a major breach of slave
etiquette and that I couldn't overlook it.
Then I took up a position behind him and delivered the first stinging blow
to his ass. The hiss of the crop as it travelled through the resisting air
was answered by the loud, resounding 'thwack' of hard leather striking
soft, yielding flesh.
I paused before delivering the second stroke giving Glaucus time to savour
his pain. And as I watched, his blood suffused the angry red stripe that
now ran roughly parallel across his ass cheeks.
Even though it must have hurt, Glaucus gritted his teeth and remained
grimly determined not to show his pain and I wondered when, or if, he would
break.
Obviously, my second stroke - yielded with more strength - was more
effective for he squirmed in a futile attempt to break free from his bonds
but still he remained silent.
And he remained so for the third, fourth and fifth strokes of the crop and
he refused to yield. I wondered if Glaucus thought he'd had a victory over
me. If so, I promised myself that his victory would be short-lived. He
would yield to me - his Master!
I laid down my crop and picked up the quirt and I went through my limbering
up exercises before applying it to my slave's shoulders.
I have a practice - learned from my father - of only whipping the fleshy,
upper back and shoulders of a slave and never his lower back. My father had
taught me that flogging the lower back can potentially incapacitate a slave
by injuring his kidneys or other internal organs. Of course this isn't done
out of consideration for the slave; rather it has to do with his monetary
value to his owner and the loss of his labour.
However, in Glaucus's case, I'd placed a too high value on his worth to me
to risk permanently injuring or disfiguring him.
Nevertheless, I applied the quirt to his shoulders with all the strength my
whipping arm could muster and the two tails of the quirt left their angry
imprints on his flawlessly smooth upper back.
Despite his best efforts, Glaucus couldn't deny this new assault on his
body. As the whip cut across his shoulders he jerked violently within his
bonds and I watched the erotic play of his pain-contorted back muscles
rippling beneath his olive-complexioned skin. And for the first time, he
vocalised his pain. However, it wasn't a scream; it was more of a grunt
than even a cry of distress.
Encouraged, I applied the quirt to his shoulders once more and I was
rewarded for my effort. As he convulsed against the tent-pole, his grunt
became a loud yelp. And with the next stroke, Glaucus's yelp became a
scream.
With the fourth and fifth strokes, Glaucus capitulated and he begged me to
stop. I had succeeded and I relished my victory over my slave!
Before untying him from the post, I examined his back and ass to see that
I'd not been over- zealous in my use of the crop and the quirt. I was happy
to see that no lasting damage had been done to him.
The stripes of my anger told me that Glaucus would be sore for a few days
but that he'd heal nicely. And as I ran my hands over his body he winced.
I untied him and ordered him to his knees. Fleetingly, he hesitated and I
could see his inner conflict as the proud Greek aristocrat wrestled with
the new realisation that he is now a whipped slave. Momentarily, I thought
he was going to defy me once more and I could feel my rising anger. Then, I
saw the tears welling in his eyes and his chest heaved as he gave a deep
sigh of final resignation and dropped to his knees at my feet.
I commanded him to pay me the homage he'd earlier refused me and obediently
he crawled to my feet and kissed them.
I looked down upon his naked body and saw the pattern of stripes that
criss-crossed his upturned ass and bowed shoulders. Yet, I received no
satisfaction from seeing them. Indeed, I regretted very much that I had
needed to resort to punishing him. There was something about Glaucus that
deeply affected me.
Drifting in from outside, the tent's silence was broken by the myriad
sounds of an army camp settling in for the night. The whinnying of
officers' horses, the rhythmic thump-thump of hobnailed feet marching past
in step and the metallic clanking of the body armour and weapons worn by
the duty centuries returning to camp joined with the sounds of loud chatter
as off-duty soldiers joked around their campfires and cooking-pots while
preparing their evening meals.
Outside the tent, as twilight fell, the slaves of my brother officers
scurried to fetch hot water for their masters to wash away the day's grime
whilst others prepared their masters' evening meals. It occurred to me that
tomorrow, Glaucus will be assigned to these duties on my behalf.
I waited in silence for Glaucus to speak and he didn't disappoint me. He
spoke just three words but contained within them was his total submission
to me.
"Welcome back, Master!"
Glaucus had called me 'Master' for the first time and I imagined how hard
that would have been for him to do. But in doing so, Glaucus had broken the
ice and from now on it will be easier for him to call me -'Master'.
Incrementally, it will become second nature for him to do so.
I'd established my authority over Glaucus and he'd accepted that. We now
had a proper Master and slave relationship and I will build on that. There
is something about Glaucus which appeals to me like no other - freeman of
slave - ever has.
I didn't know it then, but Glaucus will become so much a part of my
life. He will be my assistant, my scribe, my confidante, my one true friend
and my lover. He will work alongside of me as I establish myself in Sicilia
and he will walk three paces behind me when I eventually take up public
office in Rome.
Until then, I will regret that his status as a slave prevents him from
being my official lictor who'll carry my magistrate's fasces before me in
procession at Tauromenium. But always he will stand just behind me holding
all my official scrolls as I hand down my judgements.
I will learn to look to Glaucus for his wise Greek counsel in times of
uncertainty and for his loving, warm comfort in times of distress.
But that is in the future!
Last night, after his punishment, I gave into my lust and I used Glaucus
sexually. It was the first time I fucked Glaucus and over the coming years
there'll be countless other times. Each will prove as pleasurable as the
preceding one, but always that first time will remain imprinted in my
memory as the most memorable.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The remainder of my slaves - my spoils of war - have all been loaded onto
the second galley and this evening she rides at anchor alongside her sister
ship.
Tonight, their oar-slaves will be well fed and watered and rested before
they are woken at daybreak and whipped into action for the long row to
Tauromenium. I wish I was going with them but my duties here at Korinthos
prevent this from happening.
I have sent Perimedes and Diagoras ahead to Sicilia with my other slaves
whilst I and Glaucus remain behind in Korinthos. I have entrusted Perimedes
to act as my intermediary with the magistrate at Tauromenium who has kindly
offered to manage my affairs until I can take up permanent residence in
Sicilia.
As soon as my duties in Korinthos are finished, Glaucus will accompany me
on a visit to my parents at Pompeii. In my most recent correspondence with
my father, he'd told me that he has tired of the intrigues in Rome and now
seeks a less stressful life on his farms on the fertile slopes of Vesuvio
overlooking the Bay of Neapolis. Rather than worry about the politics of
Rome he now concentrates his efforts on improving the yields of his
vineyards and olive groves in Campania.
Of course, it would be unseemly for my aristocratic father to actively
involve himself in any commerce. But he does have many clients and a number
of manumitted slaves he finances in their business ventures including the
production of the delicacy for which Pompeii is justifiably famous. I refer
to the pungent, spicy fish-sauce known far and wide as garum and which is
exported to all corners of the Mediterranean world.
The olive oil, the Vesuvio wine and the Pompeian garum are the sources of
my family's enormous wealth and I hope to diversify these and add to them
with my Sicilian wheat growing, timber cutting and marble quarry ventures.
The last slave has been loaded and it is time for me to return to the
camp. I beckon to Glaucus and obediently he falls into step behind me.
Tonight, he will prepare and serve my evening meal after which I will
examine the records of my slaves that he has prepared for me. Then, I will
order him onto my soldier's pallet and for the second time I will
experience the delights of his young body.
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